My Voice for Theirs

I told you earlier this week that I had a post that I was mulling over.

I had read an article that made me so angry that I could have spit nails.

Which is why I needed to take a few days for my rage to get to a point where vitriol was not the only thing that was spread across my page.

A recent headline this week (and y’all know I love my headlines taking me deeper down that rabbit hole) about a comment made by the head of the Canadian Catholic Bishops in which he stated that the church is being persecuted amid the discoveries of unmarked graves in provinces at residential schools is what enraged me.

That the media is playing it up and it really is not as bad as all that.

That there has been finger pointing and it is a big thing right now.

No it has been a big thing for the Indigenous people it is that now the world is paying attention.

What has become a big thing is that y’all are being called to account.

Fingers are being pointed for the atrocities that were committed because the church and government knew better.

Sorry the church and government filled with white men who were so damn afraid of change and differences that they had to attempt to subjugate or assimilate and if that did not work than eradication was the way to go and they are the ones that knew best.

And one must beg the question how did they know that they and they alone knew what was the best thing to do?

Because the Bible said so.

There are passages upon passages that can be used to affirm this belief.

I am fairly confident that if I were to sit down and read the bible that I would be able to find a rule against just about anything.

And if I am not I will find a section that is close enough and interpret so that it in fact does state what I want it to state.

This has been happening for so long it has become ingrained to believe that those words are heavenly when if fact they are the words written by men for men on how to keep others under their thumb.

As a result of the graves and bodies being found vandalism is on the rise at catholic churches.

Arson.

An expression of rage and pain.

I understand but it is not helping.

And I ask those who have participated:

Did you feel better in the end as the last flame licked out?

I will never know the pain that is felt so strongly that it is generational.

I will never know the pain of being ripped from my family.

I will never know the fear of being abused because I am different.

I will never know what they had to live with.

But I will open my ears.

I will open my eyes.

I will open my mouth.

I will stand and not be silent until every child is found and brought to rest.

My voice is small.

My voice is loud.

My voice is my words and my emotions.

My voice to be given for those who were silenced and taken.

My voice will be theirs.

©July 4/21

Picture is my own